


FIC:  Seven is a Crapshoot

by Hippediva



Category: Once Upon a Time in Mexico (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-08
Updated: 2004-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hippediva/pseuds/Hippediva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7 deadly sins</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC:  Seven is a Crapshoot

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
giggly  
---|---  
**Current music:** | Rubber Tree Plant in my mind  
  
_**FIC: Seven is a Crapshoot**_  
DISCLAIMER: Rodriguez thought him up and JD made him real. I'm borrowing him.  
PAIRING: Sands and his sweet self

This is for [](http://khohen1.livejournal.com/profile)[**khohen1**](http://khohen1.livejournal.com/)....she asked for pre-blinding 7 deadly sins/holy virtues. Well, I didn't get to the virtues yet, but here are the sins.

**Sloth**

He rolled over, stuck his head under the pillow, cursing half-heartedly at the light reflected on the whitewashed wall across the plaza.

Fuck you, Washington.

The report could wait until he replaced his laptop. Meanwhile, it was too hot to think. He curled up and the sheet stuck to the small of his back, soggy with sweat and dreams.

  
**Avarice**

He gave the bills one last longing look before snapping the lid of the lunchbox closed.

God, I hate pay offs.

Then he thought about a mountain of cash ceremonially waiting to be whisked off to Rio and smiled.

  
**Wrath**

His key jiggled in the lock but the tumblers weren't falling into place. A wave started somewhere in his backbone, reached around to grab at his crotch, then spilled over his neck like lava.

He kicked in the door.

"Why doesn't my key work?"

  
**Lust**

It sat at the table, brooding and didn't even react to his carefully-coordinated insanity of attire.

Dark eyes, cold and piercing, lowered under knotted brows. He sat down quickly. His knees felt weak and he pulled his mask down and smiled.

"El? It is El?" His tongue rolled around the words, savouring them, sucking on every syllable.

Shit. So what do I have to do to get your attention? Shoot you?

  
**Gluttony**

He worked his way through the entire plate slowly. It wasn't a substitute for dark hair and eyes, but it would do.

More would be nice, but he had a promise to keep.

Three shots and wasn't it all over too quickly?

The smell of blood reached his nostrils and he was still hungry.

  
**Envy**

She sat cross-legged on the bed, waving the gun around like a nail file.

Damn, to be able to distract someone by just crossing legs like that.

  
**Pride**

The little weasel took the box and looked sick. He looked green for all his words.

Ah, the satisfaction of a job well-done.

"You're a good rat. I like that."

The little man's face twisted in pain as he grinned and turned away.

I love my job.


End file.
